Ink on Paper Skin
by pumpkintofu
Summary: Ace decides to get a tattoo in loving memory of his deceased brother; but fear of the unknown can often confine us from doing the things we really want to do. Unless you happen to have an exceedingly attractive blonde tattoo-artist attend to you with his exceedingly attractive ways, then you are ready to go! Two-Shot. Modern AU. Ace
1. Part 1

**A/N:** I hope you enjoy this first part and please express any comments, questions, criticism, opinions, feedback, critiques, recommendations . . . etc. They will be greatly appreciated!

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Ace stood anxiously before the terrorizing structure before him; taking nervous breaths as he carefully observed the worn-out harsh exterior of the tattoo parlour situated in the heart of the city. Conflicting feelings flashed hastily through his mind as he registered the whole ordeal; the building in front of him could easily be a horror house of live human experimentation with instruments of slow brutal torture, ideal for the perfect gore movie; which to an extent, frightened the man out of Ace. But at the same time, there is a burning fire within him, an unexplainable source that emitted a thrilling adrenal gut-feeling deep inside him that longed so eagerly for permanent art to be inked upon his body. This place was atrocious. Ravishing. Dreadful. Extraordinary. Repulsive. Exciting.

Gray eyes continued to study the architecture of one of society's most controversial professions; the weathered black brick-work crafted by time that structured the whole establishment, the transparent windows that welcomely displayed the crowded interior of the parlour, the elaborate graphics of characteristics that are defined as plain 'awesome' (skulls, exploding lights, silhouettes and Ace's favourite, flames) decorated the front and finally, the highly acclaimed name of the tattoo and piercing business, **Whitebeard & Sons Tattoo**, dominated Ace with intimidation and admiration as he stared into the bulky store label.

Fisting his hands in confidence and eyeing the door, Ace marched toward the metal entrance; taking in one last deep breath before pulling the cool handle and softly whispering, "For you, Sabo."

Walking in was easy; but the real fear had yet to come. Ace stood idly in the middle of the waiting room, suddenly contemplating about whether or not getting ink was a good idea. Maybe flowers every week was a better tribute to his late brother. His thoughts were soon distracted by an approaching figure.

"Hello there, yoi. How can I help you?"

Ace was met with a pair of lazy azure eyes that gleamed in the bright fluorescent lighting and a warm smile that lined the lips of the man in front of him. The man was tall, lean and muscular in appearance; his bodily frame donning a casual yet classy attire of knee-cropped grey pants with a blue sash masterly adorned and a detailed gold belt hanging loosely, black sandals strapped up the creamy delicacy of his lower leg with a tribal-like accessory wrapped above his left and finally, a silky vibrant purple buttoned-up blouse clothed his upper body that perfectly clung to the right curves of his frame. To top the cherry on the cake (a rather delicious cake), the man had a hairstyle of short fine light hairs that protruded the back and sides of his head and long locks of blonde on top that dabbed uniqueness into sophistication.

Ace felt the uncertainty before, slowly fade as he looked at the smiling blonde once more; there was something about the man in front of him that somewhat . . . Reassured him. Like he knew of Ace's nervousness, and implied that it was all going to be okay and to simply just 'live your life'. He suddenly thought of Sabo.

Unhesitating, Ace drew a grin at his said string of determined words, "I want a tattoo."

The blonde slightly widened his smile before quickly turning. "Follow me." He softly instructed, flicking a finger towards Ace as he disappeared into another room. Ace followed closely behind and found himself in quite a spacey sterile enclosure that held an abundance of artwork designs on its walls; remarkably detailed Celtic dragons and knots, exquisite floral designs, extraordinary animal beasts, diligent and complex text and symbols. . . The potential tattoos demonstrated on the walls intrigued Ace into wanting to put them all on his body, that is, until he remembered his true contention of coming here. But that didn't stop him from continuing his appreciation towards the artwork.

Ace reverted his attention back to the man and saw him pointing to the leather seat that sat in the middle of the room and highly resembled a dental chair you would see at the dentist, in which Ace was not too particularly fond of.

"Take a seat." The blonde insisted as he rolled a chair and slid it beside the restraining contraption and sat down. Suddenly, Ace was feeling nervous again, an awkward pooling of distress filling the pits of his stomach as he made his way towards the chair. Maybe he should just back down now. He eyed the man once again, only to see an encouraging grin plastered on the blonde's torpid face. Before he could realize it, Ace found that he was already sitting upright on the chair; what _witchcraft_ did this person use?!

"Now", the man started, "where do you want your tattoo?"

Ace felt himself alleviate to the soothing voice and a burst of courage and exhilaration perk into his response. He shifted to give the man a clear view and ran a hand down his broad left shoulder that was clothed within his yellow shirt, stopping at his exposed elbow with a toothy grin on his face, "Upper-arm please." He was dead **sure** it was going there.

The blond gave out an impressed whistle, "Good choice in placement, yoi" he then leaned into Ace, sapphire orbs burrowing in wonder as he continued, "Do you have a design in mind?"

Ace nodded, hands digging into the dens of his pant pocket before pulling out a neatly folded piece of paper. As he passed the paper to the man, who firmly grasped and unveiled the thin sheet, Ace couldn't help but notice the small metal name-tag amidst the amethyst silk that read 'Marco'.

"Hmmm, this is a rather interesting design, yoi."

Ace let out a coy laugh as Marco continued examining the articulate illustrated text, "Yeah, I'm not much of an artist."

The idea was a vertical arrangement of inky onyx words that spelled out 'ASCE'; with a distinguishable cross that marked out the 'S' and a solid ecliptic that filled the void of the 'C'. Marco had to hand it to his customer; the typography was visually stimulating, very respectable for someone who claimed else-wise.

He couldn't help but smile at the artist of the blue-print, "I can fix the edges for you to smooth it out. How about that?"

"That sounds awesome!" Ace agreed, now sufficiently valiant and confident on getting the tattoo.

Marco softly chuckled at the enthusiasm, a deep vibration that sent chills down Ace as much as his next few words, "Take off your shirt and let me see your arm."

. . .Ace was dumbfounded at the request. Here? Now? In front of him?!

He felt his face flush in heat and abashment as Marco suddenly stood up, still retaining a lazy grin as he stepped towards a storeroom, "I'll be right back. Take your time now, yoi."

Sure enough, Ace did take his time; slowly picking out the buttons down-up and releasing their clasp, feeling the cool vented air gently caress the pores of his abdomen and chest. There was no escape from this; he gladly would have just rolled the short yellow sleeve up to denude his arm but the vast muscle that his shoulder possessed was reluctant to allow such a thing, oh **curse** all that heavy training!

Ace undid the last button of his shirt and slipped it off his shoulder when Marco returned with a tray of rather curious tools. He eyed the blue vinyl gloves, the compartments of darkly opaque indelible ink, the bottles of ointments and creams, the white medicinal patches and then- as dramatic as it was to perceive last and from what Ace could identify from endless hours of torturous research on the topic- the two-coiled tattoo machines came into view, both liner and shading. The barred needles twinkled at sight, a provocative yet alluring shine that had Ace swallowing hard.

Marco placed the tray on the table beside the chair of honour, noticing the younger man's slightly staggered look.

Wanting to avert the customer's tension, he spoke up, "I never quite got your name. I'm Marco, yoi", gesturing to the small name tag that hung on the breast of his shirt, "And you are?"

Ace had barely registered the question; shifting around to confront Marco, he quickly spurted out "A-Ace!", before realising the rudeness of that short introduction. Pulling a small smile, "I'm Ace. Pleased to meet you." he tried again with a hand extended towards the older man.

Marco gladly took it, "No. no. The pleasure is mine, yoi."

At this; Ace was somewhat relieved, and Marco noticed when he stole a glimpse of Ace's freckles dancing in delight as he let out a beaming smile. _Cute_.  
Being so up-close and personal had its perks; the blonde noted how Ace's lustrous ebony tresses parted in the central of his fore-head, like an open-curtain where it showcased and framed his youthful face. Ace had such a peachy complexion of vanilla tinted skin that shimmered, even under the artificial light; accentuating tender youth that Marco found himself, was quite envious of. Youth . . . When was the last time he considered himself that? How old was he again?

A gentle sigh escaped the older man's lips as the thought of growing old crept into consideration; after all, age always got the best of him. . . Oh damn this brat for reminding him of his maturing character! It was always a subject that those close to him, knew was off-limits to even _think_ about. Damn this brat indeed.

Marco felt a small frown crease his mouth as he begin rolling his violet sleeves up; having not even secured the sleeve of the first arm when he heard an excited gasp, followed by, "HOLY SMOKING HAMS!"

Marco gazed at his astonished customer who had his jaw lowered and eyes widened at the sight of his exposed arm. Marco raised an eye-brow in question as Ace pointed a finger to the limb of his attention, continuing his last outburst, "THAT. IS. AWESOME!"

It **really **was. Ace was in awe at the sight before him; it was amazing and it was cool, it was overwhelming and it was breath-taking. There, on the single arm of Marco the tattooist, was one of the most incredible things Ace had ever encountered. In mixes of azure, cobalt, cerulean and sapphire blue, came intricate patterns of fiery swirls that consumed the whole arm. And, despite being a still form of art, it still flickered with life in Ace's eyes; he felt the chilliness of the diverse hues of blue, clash with the heat of flaming designs. It mesmerised him… it drew him in. Like _fire_.

Smiling, Marco could see the admiration and wonderment drip from Ace's eyes as the freckled-face continued gluing eyes onto his sleeve tattoo. Liking the appreciation, he decided to roll up the sleeve of his other arm, displaying two fully tattooed arms before Ace as he slyly asked with an equally sly smile, "Like them?"

Ace looked up at tattooist, ferociously nodding his head as he exclaimed, "YES! OF COURSE, YES!"

Marco heartily chuckled, "Thank you, yoi."

There was no sign of Ace's amazement dying down, "WHERE DID YOU GET THEM?"

Marco thought **that** was quite an amusing question to answer. Closing his eyes briefly and smiling at the memory, he looked at Ace; "Here," Marco pointed to the chair in which Ace was on, "I did them myself."

Ace paused, a new form of surprise washing over his face as he muttered out, "Y-You… d-did… what?"

"I did them myself." Marco repeated, still retaining a crafty smile.

Ace found his eyes sink to the floor, thoughts in deep concentration as silence fell throughout the whole room. Holy crap; if this guy was able to get a tattoo done, by himself, on both freakin' arms, then I should be able to . . . Ace began thinking into more depth as the floor seemed to scream epiphany to his ideas. Marco remained quiet but patient, knowing exactly what was going through the younger man's mind. It was time to _**decide**_. He also knew the answer and pulled a grin when Ace finally looked up, gray eyes locked onto blue.

Ace was stern, "I want it" and absolute, "I want the tattoo."

"Then let's get started."

Marco slipped his fingers into the sheath of the gloves, stretching the rubber elasticity against his hands until a thick smacking clapped against his skin when he released, just like doctors before examination on their patients. He smirked. Bending towards Ace, Marco grasped the subjected left arm, silently remarking the strong, sturdy yet soft and pastel triceps as they stiffened to his touch. He ran slender fingers across; lightly tracing the design onto the bare skin with sheer certainty as he pulled back to look at Ace.

"In black?" he questioned, eyes boring and searching for any decline within the youthful glassy eyes of his client.

Ace nodded with a sunny beam, "I can't think of any other colour" He then crooked an eye-brow in thought, "Though pink sounds tempting."

Marco genuinely laughed at the remark, surprising Ace who felt a sense of accomplishment despite the horribly shallow humour of the stupid joke. Marco never had such a patron who would so easily shrug off the severity of getting a tattoo; any other normal person would act solemn and rather reserved. Tattooing is serious business, but this young fellow just waved it off like 'permanent' and 'extremely-disregarded-body-modification-within-modern-society' was a natural part of his vocabulary. The lad reminded Marco of himself during his youth, which didn't seem as long ago as it did _before_ the youngster discovered his sleeve tatts.

Ace conscientiously watched as Marco dispensed an opaque liquid onto a clean cloth and begun rubbing it against his upper left arm. Ace's breath slightly hitched as the cool liquor was stroked onto his skin in gentle circular motions, gradually warming with each shift of the cloth.

"Alcohol, yoi" Marco informed him "to clean the area."

Ace nodded in response as Marco discarded the used cloth and began tearing sterile packaging that contained all the materials necessary for the tattooing process. He picked out an inky cartridge and installed it into a hand-held instrument, before connecting it to an electric motor through a tubular network.

Marco lifted his head from the general procedure to quickly notify Ace, "I'm skipping the stencil transfer. Won't be necessary with your design."

"Or your skill" Ace quickly stated, turning his heated head to avoid the surprised look on Marco's face.

The blonde shook his head, "I haven't even started yet and you go on praising me." The older man didn't resist the grin emerging from his lips, "Am I that good, yoi?"

"They're yours?"Ace slowly directed himself towards the tattooist, pointing to the art filled walls he had earlier admired.

"Yes."

Ace then lifted his right hand, thumbs up with a wink and a stupidly long smile on his face, "Then I have every right to praise _and_ trust you."

Marco felt himself pause on the spot and linger onto the words that just sounded from the younger man. No one; no customer or friend or family member, had ever remotely come close to saying what Ace just said. Sure he was praised as an artist by clients and trusted as a brother by friends and family, but praised _and_ trusted by a complete _stranger_? That was a massive strike to his general train of thought.

Blinking, "…Thank you, yoi" were the first words that escaped his mind through his lips as Marco regained himself.

Though Ace found himself squinting in confusion at the sudden expression of gratitude, "Why the hell are you thanking me?"

"You just sa-"

Ace interjected with a stern palm raised in parallel to the blonde's face, "You haven't even started yet and _you_ go on thanking _me_?" seeing Marco's sleepy eyes lift in surprise, Ace continued "I'm pretty much an idiot out there in the World but your sense of logic is very questionable right now Marco."

Strike _two_ on his train of thought; Marco didn't know whether the sudden shock came from the brutal rebuttal or how his name so casually slipped from Ace's lips for the first time. Then, there was a moment of silence; not awkward but almost lifeless, where both he and Ace stood still, where he could hear the faint breaths of the youngster, where he felt the tattoo machine begin to slip from his grasp until he quickly entwined his fingers around it, where suddenly; Marco felt his insides elevate and loosen into ticklish spasms. He began to snicker to it; then the sensation got more intense and the snickering got louder and before long, he was unable to suppress an uncontrollable laugh that Ace was awkwardly chuckling at.

Slowly recovering from his vocal expulsion; Marco managed to get out between haggard breaths, "You- are such- a brat, yoi."

"Hey! I'm a customer here" Ace huffed, "Do your job and get this tattoo done already."

Marco agreed with a small nod, before twisting open a jar of ointment and caringly applying it to the left triceps, as it would help the needle to slide along the skin more smoothly. But he needed not to tell Ace that, for he knew a sense of trust had been established between them. Finally picking up the two –coiled tattoo machine, Marco leaned into Ace, "Don't hold your breath. I don't want you fainting on me, it's happened many times before."

Ace didn't flinch to the new information but grinned, with his index finger pressed against his thumb in an 'okay' hand gesture.

Marco returned a smile before further instructing, "I want you to relax. Take a nice slow and deep breath."

Ace instantly abided, filtering and adjusting his breaths to Marco's advice, loosening himself to the forthcoming moment of _make_ or _break_. He looked straight ahead; pass Marco's shoulder where he imagine Sabo to be; standing there with a toothy smile (with that obvious gap between) at his courage to get a tattoo. Sabo would have definitely wanted one as well. Ace suddenly heard the hum of the electric motor initiate, but he was more than ready; he was looking _forward_ to this and promised to never look back.

Feeling a gloved hand clutch his shoulder, he turned his head and Ace was met with a pair of lazy azure eyes and a warm smile that lined the lips of the man in front of him.

"No regrets, yoi?" Marco asked, the barred needle ghosting above Ace's skin; ready to paint art upon the open canvas of his arm.

"No regrets" Ace said, "Never."

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**A/N:** Dear reader; who has reached this point of the page, I commend you for your efforts and will-power to pull through this abomination of literature!  
I have no idea as to whether I should thank you or apologise about that fact D:

Anyways, depending on you lovely readers, I might just upload a second part because I honestly do not know if this is even _good_ enough for a second part. But YOU can determine that outcome so . . .

Remember to please express any comments, questions, criticism, opinions, feedback, critiques, recommendations . . . etc. They will be greatly appreciated!

-Mochi


	2. Part 2

**A/N:** Finally, after a long period of procrastinating and laziness, I have completed part 2 ~ ! Although, I think it is not as well written as Part 1, it's readable nonetheless ~

I hope you enjoy this second part and please express any comments, questions, criticism, opinions, feedback, critiques, recommendations . . . etc. They will be greatly appreciated!

* * *

It happened; the first contact of sterile iron against bare skin that sent a pain so foreign, so exhilarating upon Ace's arm. Falling victim to the extraordinary agony that began exploding throughout his whole body; Ace felt his lips gap slightly in a silent cry, his arm tense to the electricity that stimulated at each puncture of the needle and his eyes cloud in a watery haze that threatened to blind him to unconsciousness.

Clenching his fist in hopes of somehow finding support in the form of a touch back or gentle words- Ace realised that he was in fact alone in this. _Ignore it_. _Ignore it_.  
Nobody was there to stroke or hold him in reassurance. _Ignore it_. Nobody was there to sing words of encouragement. _Ignore it_. Head spinning and losing grip of his senses that unbearably made the World tilt, Ace knew that he was alone and that nobody was there to relieve the hurt. _Ignore it_. It was painfully lonely, and it was his worst fear. _You can't ignore it._

But amidst the distressing strain and Ace's self solitude, was a voice that sounded so heavenly distinctive amongst his suffering and was appeasing to his ears:

"Ace."

Marco's voice was there, in all its contradicting beauty; soft yet firm, placid yet concerning, almost a whisper in the physical World yet an exclamation to his thoughts. Hearing his name draw from the fine lips of the older man in front of him liberated all the fears that had drained Ace's mentality. Lifting his eyes in search for any of Marco's being, Ace settled to putting his focus on the sparse shrubbery that rooted along the blonde's jaw-line he had only just discovered.

"Breathe, yoi."

And breathe Ace did; abiding without a second to spare. He deeply pulled in the crisp atmosphere of the interior but more significantly, the scent of the man barely a distant from him; his friendly stranger, his personal artist and just now, his saviour: Marco. And damn, Marco smelt amazing; fresh elegant notes of violet leaf and bergamot with a slow finish of spicy notes from black tea and cinnamon. It was enchanting, captivating his senses completely and most obviously easing him from the throbbing pain before.

Having been unsettled for his client before, Marco pulled a smile seeing comfort begin to finally wash over Ace's face before softly speaking, "That's it."

The younger man sighed in relief as the torturous pinning gradually faded into an irritating buzz against his skin as he continued breathing (or in other words; the not-so-obviously-inhaling-in-Marco exercise). Looking up into heavy-lidded eyes; that partially enclosed the luminous blue circles beneath, Ace managed to pull a wavering but ecstatic grin that Marco so coincidently caught between the occasional glance to his customer. _Those lips_. The way Ace's fleshy supple rim curved so radiantly, slapped the professional within the artist for a short moment before Marco self-irritably ignored his own personal indulgence; that could have horribly stumble the needle out of its inky pattern.  
Lightly shaking his head in annoyance at himself and continuing his artistic speciality; Marco found that maybe now was the appropriate (and convenient) time to ask a budding question to Ace.

"You know, yoi" he started, clearing his throat and being cautious not to falter his professionalism as he continued pressing the needle across Ace's arm, "Behind every tattoo is a story."

Stealing a quick glimpse of the freckled-face, Marco knew he had Ace's full attention by the way those metallic grey eyes reflected a curiosity and sheer absorption of his words; though he couldn't help but think that a little part of him, did feel guilty of having such influence on the latter.

But he quickly disregarded those dark thoughts and continued, "I ink stars that preserve wishes and dreams, quotes that inspire anyone who reads them, crosses and bones that signify strength, brutality and rebellion, names of ex-girlfriends and boyfriends crossed out in regret and -no joke- but flying llamas with butterflies and rainbows encircling them from drunken mistakes."

Ace giggly snickered to the last remark and Marco couldn't help but follow ensue as he finally questioned with his own gaze of curiosity, "Is there a story behind yours, yoi?"

That question struck Ace, and abruptly he was swept into a mental warp that devoured him in a time lapse of moving images; he was inflicted with nostalgic flashing memories of himself and Sabo . . . Oh, Sabo. His best friend. His brother. A piece that had once completed Ace as a whole. But Sabo had departed from the World and with him, left an idle void that wounded the very core of Ace's existence. However, that was so long ago and Ace swore to never dwell in the past, no matter how much it hurt to move on or forget.

After a few minutes of dipping his lower lips only to pinch it back closed, Ace found his words with a poignant smile, "The 'S' symbolises a brother I lost a long time ago. I thought it would be a good tribute to him, so here I am."

There was a pause; a deathly silence that ripped throughout the room, apart from the rousing hum of the tattoo machine. Though he was quiet, Marco was not loss for words, in actual fact; he knew exactly what to say. But death was a delicate subject and required appropriate timing and consideration to avoid from offending. "It's a beautiful gesture." Marco expressed, voice faint and all the sincerity he possesses in his words, as he could never imagine the pain of losing a brother or the gratification of having someone dear to you, do such a lovely thing.

Ace's eye-brows knitted in uncertainty, "Really?"

"For your brother to be remembered forever on your body, yoi . . . ", Marco voiced, letting the needle drift off Ace's arm, "Whoever you become, where ever you go, until the time you join him …"And at that moment, there was a clash of swirling marine blue eyes with cloudy grey ones before the blonde finished with a smile, "It's a beautiful thing you're doing, yoi."

Ace was unquestionably stunned; he slowly scrutinized the man who spoke what sounded like poetry of the Gods in his ears, with a break between his lips that illustrated a shrilling gasp that never sounded. His eyes felt blanketed in tender inspiration and before watery tears could pathetically form, Ace harshly blinked his lids. He was _touched_.

Unconsciously disregarding what would usually be a 'thank you' that followed, Ace instead pointed with his free hand towards spinning flames of blue as Marco began tattooing again, "Your arms. . ." Ace inquired, "What's your story?"

Sparing the younger man an elongated gaze as he multitasked between conversing and inking, Marco leaned into Ace with a solemn expression bearing his face, "People perceive fire to be a burning curse, something that brings only pain and destruction, yoi. But I see it as something more; something along the lines of energy and life. . . Like the Sun" Feeling gentle fingers smoothly brush the surface of the arm that gripped the younger man's triceps, Marco jumped slightly but didn't recoil from Ace's feathery touch as he continued, "On lonely nights, where all I want, is to embrace the skies; I spread my arms in hopes of flying and of course I don't, yoi. But at the same time, it feels like I _am_. That energy is there. There's life within my arms that cycles every time I get that feeling, yoi."

The blonde man closed his eyes briefly after the tattoo shading had finished, releasing the needle off Ace's upper arm as he concluded, "Like I'm born again. So I tattooed that _very_ fire on my arms."

Ace dropped his free hand from Marco's arms with a laughing smile and commented, "That's amazing! And does the blue represent a contrast to the heat of fire? Or did you do blue because you wanted to tell those stupid people off? Are phoenixes blue?" Something suddenly clicked in Ace, the gears in his mind jerking on as he cried with enlightened realisation, "Maybe you wanted to be a phoenix!"

Marco chuckled at the rather interesting analysis before shaking his head, "I only did blue because it's my favourite colour." However, upon seeing Ace's distorted eyes and disappointment begin to plaster his face, Marco quickly asserted, "But I guess I _am_ a phoenix now, yoi."

Ace lit the room with his delirious beam that had Marco trying to reflect it with his own, as he began opening a single-use bottle of anti-bacterial dressing.

"Are you finished already?" Ace asked, tilting his head to see his design that was at first printed on paper, perfectly mirror on his left arm.

"Yes; I _am_ _**that**_ good, am I not, yoi?" Marco replied with a defiant grin, slyly suggesting what Ace had said earlier about his expertise in tattooing. And in response, freckles soared with a shade of pink that dusted his cheeks from Ace, who couldn't help but stare at the ground in embarrassment at his former outburst.

"Right now, your tattoo is classified as an open wound, yoi" Marco prompted before carefully applying the dressing on the newly inked tattoo, "For the next two weeks, you will need to take very good care of it."

Swiftly, Marco unpeeled a medical patch before wearing it above the black text, spreading his hands centre outwards to draw out the air beneath as Ace's eyes rolled around to his movements. Marco then pulled up from his seat and walked over towards a shelf, picking out a pamphlet and handing it to Ace who clasp it with an engrossed peep.

Marco helped fingered a precise page and flicked it open before Ace, "Remember to wash your tattoo with liquid antibacterial or antimicrobial soap after you take off the patch, which you will have to leave on for a minimum of two hours" With a smile; he added, "Don't get too excited in wanting to show your friends, they will have to wait 'till later, yoi."

"Not a problem" Ace returned, "Thanks Marco."

Feeling already and strangely accustomed to being addressed by his name, the blonde tattooist just realised how easy it was to talk to Ace and how much he wanted to know and discover about the younger man before him. Unconscious of the moment that passed, Marco was shocked at himself after he had heard himself just gush out, "I like you Ace, I won't charge for the tattoo, yoi."

Expecting all hell to break loose between them, Marco hastily stalked towards the door before he had to painfully witness Ace's horrified or even outraged response. _No_ he did _**not**_ want to see that. Gripping the door handle, and about to violently swing it open in a quick escape, a voice found a way to Marco's hearing and he abruptly froze with a mute whine. He was too late.

"Say Marco . . . When are you free?"

Strike _three_ on his train of thought today; the older man slowly spun around, door handle still captured within his fingers and eyes lifted in disbelief. _Did Ace just . . .?_

"I-err-I was wondering if we could talk a little more, y-you know?" Ace kneaded the back of his head with a gawky laugh, "I think I want another tattoo- maybe on my back- but I am _starving_ right now!"

As he made his hunger obviously known by rubbing his stomach and pulled a small grin; inside, Ace was screaming, organs churning in self-loathing and revolt at what he just suggested to Marco. _What the __**hell**__ Ace!_ Expecting all hell to break loose, Ace sunk on the spot and knew that for once, he was going to regret something. At least he was willing to look into the azure eyes of the man in front of him, and see for himself the appalled reaction of the tattoo artist.

_Yes, he __**did**__ just ask __**that**_. Without a second thought; Marco opened the door with a insistent hand extended towards the gapped exit, stunning the very existence of Ace's being with two words the youngster never thought he would ever hear as a reply. _Get out_, no it was not that. _Go die_, definitely not that. _Piss off_, not that either.

Marco had let out with a soft laugh, "After you."

* * *

**A/N: **WOW ~ ! I never thought I would have written a second part for this story, I honestly didn't think Part 1 was worthy of a sequel ~

But I would just like to thank the following people for making this possible : Portgas D. Paula , Son Goshen , Mafa , azab , Mai Kusakabe , KashixKashi , Mountain97 & angelrider13~ You beautiful souls made this possible and I cannot thank you all enough for lending me the motivation and support I needed to write this ~ Also: Sparrow1011 , Itsyourday , Hiken08 , Lacus01 , LadyUzuScarlet & Inori. D for your favourites ; they mean a lot to me and contributed just as much as reviews (:

Thank you everyone ~~

On another note that isn't full of "thank you's" ~ I had another ending in mind but it seemed satisfying when I ended it with the one above ~

Alternative ending anyone? :D ./bricked

-Mochi


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